The Formidable Earl (Diamonds in the Rough #6) - Sophie Barnes Page 0,64
turned away and began climbing the stairs.
Once in his room, he undressed. His breaths came so hard and rapid it seemed to take forever for them to slow. A red haze clouded his vision and his body practically shook with the need to do violence. Christ have mercy, he was furious. Elliot had crossed the line. Once Simon was cleaned up he’d have to go find him – deal with him somehow. Grabbing his robe, Simon shoved his arms into the sleeves, then tied the belt and prepared to wait for the maids to fill his tub. He pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes, and tried to think of Ida.
His angry heartbeats gradually slowed, giving way to a calmer rhythm. He couldn’t wait to get back to Number Five Bedford Street. His muscles relaxed just thinking about it.
Nothing would make this day better than allowing himself the pleasure of Ida’s company. She was like an elixir he couldn’t resist, an addiction he couldn’t deny, and a craving that would always lead him right back, desperate for more.
Chapter Twelve
It was Tuesday, and with Simon busy for the better part of the day, Ida had decided to spend some time in the parlor with her knitting. Her headache had finally vanished yesterday afternoon and the wound had completely healed. Redding had come to call again in the evening. He’d removed the bandage, assessed her, and declared her fully recovered, allowing her to return her focus to the evidence she and Simon had gathered, sparse though it was.
As they’d reviewed what they knew for what had to be the tenth time, an idea had popped into her head. They were attempting to find the messenger who’d delivered the letters to Captain Murdoch, but what about the forger himself? The writing and the seals must have been extremely exact so as not to raise any suspicions. If they could locate the individual, perhaps they could learn something more about who had hired him.
Simon had readily agreed. The new goal and chance for success had improved his mood dramatically. Ida’s needles clicked as she pulled the yarn through the next loop. He’d had a horrible row with his uncle yesterday, and while he refused to share the details, it was clear that he hated what had happened between them.
Miranda entered the room. “Would you like some tea, miss?”
“Oh yes, please.”
The maid bobbed a curtsey, even though Ida had told her she needn’t be quite so formal around her, and departed. Ida returned to her knitting. The nearby clock ticked away the minutes. Miranda returned with the tea, placed it on the table in front of Ida, and left. Ida poured herself a cup and had just taken a sip when a knock sounded at the front door.
She froze, momentarily unsure of what to do. Rising, she went to the window and carefully looked out. A shudder gripped her the moment she spotted Mr. Nugent. She glanced at the pistol lying next to her knitting on the sofa. Her stomach tightened and she took a step back.
Another succession of knocks followed.
“Should I answer that, miss?” Miranda asked from the doorway.
Ida shook her head. “No. It’s best if we don’t.”
“Very well, miss.”
Miranda left and Ida returned to the window. When she looked out again, Mr. Nugent was gone. Expelling a deep breath she went back to her knitting. Miranda’s light footsteps sounded on the stairs in the hallway, first going up and then coming back down a few minutes later. Silence followed until Ida suddenly heard Miranda say, “Sir, you cannot simply—”
“Where is she?” a man’s voice demanded.
Dread pooled at the base of Ida’s spine. She grabbed the pistol and stood.
“Wait,” Miranda shouted. “Miss Strong!”
Concerned for the maid, Ida stepped out into the hallway and raised her arm, aiming the pistol directly at the intruder. “Stop right there, Mr. Nugent.”
“I’m sorry, miss,” came Miranda’s tremulous voice from behind Mr. Nugent’s portly figure. “He got in through the kitchen door while I was upstairs.”
“It’s rude not to answer the door when someone comes to call,” Mr. Nugent said.
Ida glared at him while pulling back the hammer on the pistol. “And it’s against the law to break into someone’s home.”
“Foolish chit. You’ll kill me if you’re not careful.” He took a step in her direction.
“Unless you kill me first. Is that it?” Ida pressed her back into the doorframe behind her. She really didn’t want to shoot him, but she would if she had to.